Final Tribute
by austenfan1990
Summary: A one-shot written days after the publication of Deathly Hallows but only submitted recently. Although the rest of Hogwarts is aglow with celebration, Harry pays his final respects to a man who he had never thought to respect or forgive - Severus Snape.


_Final Tribute_

Hogwarts, for the first time in months, was aglow with festivity. The feverish happiness that spread through the ancient halls was almost infectious. Despite the long list of casualties and though there was always a twinge of sadness and loss when they discussed the valiant efforts of their fallen comrades, they knew that the time for celebration had arrived and they would properly honour their sacrifice by celebrating in their behalf. The time of mourning would come in the morning when the official funeral procession would commence under Kingsley Shacklebolt who had organised the event. Even now as those who were too overjoyed to think of anything else, members of the staff and the Order were solemnly drawing up the plans and preparing the bodies of their comrades for burial. Comrades who, though it seemed unbelievable, had been conversing with them only hours before...their voices never to be heard again by those would knew them best.

However, there was one body that was presently not on the list. And Harry was determined that that person was not to be forgotten_ that _quickly.

As the celebratory festivity continued at Hogwarts, Harry left Ron and Hermione in the courtyard, explaining that he had some business to attend to. He had taken his cloak and was evidently set to go out upon the grounds. Ron turned to him, puzzled.

'But Harry...everything's over...You-Know-Who's gone and you'll have nothing left to worry about. You said it yourself: 'I've had enough trouble for one lifetime. Live life a little, mate.'

'Ron,' said Hermione, with a slight edge to her voice. 'Don't you think it's obvious what Harry wants to do?'

'What?' came the answer.

'Oh, Merlin's Beard! You, Ronald Weasley, have definitely had too much Firewhisky to drink for one evening.' She sent him off to rest with the others who had fallen asleep inside the Great Hall, a long hard battle fought and won, leaving them to peaceful slumber. The injured were being taken care of, Madam Pomfrey of the Hospital Wing had greeted the Healers from St Mungo's who had been sent for by the Order. At least, Harry thought, they would be tended to and Death would have no more part in deciding the fate of those who dwelled upon the campus. People, many of whom Harry didn't personally know, slapped him across the back supportively as they flitted back indoors. Harry could only smile at them, nodding every now and then at some congratulatory remark as they went off to rest. There was to be no rest for him though. Not yet. Not when he wanted to pay his last respects to a certain person of whom he had never harboured a favourable opinion towards...until only a few hours ago.

Ron walked back into the castle, swaying slightly from side to side. Hermione looked at Harry carefully before asking quietly:

'Are you sure you'll be able to do it?'

'If he could do something that difficult for seventeen years, I'm sure I can. Anyway, I owe him, Hermione. Or rather, my mum owes him. But as you can see, she isn't around with us to do it.'

Hermione nodded sympathetically. 'Would you like me to come?'

'No. It's better that you go with Ron, Hermione. And Mrs Weasley would definitely want some support now. Ginny too.' Ginny. His insides seemed to ache for her as he recalled how devastated she looked as she gazed almost disbelievingly at Fred's lifeless face. If only he could hold her in his arms and tell her that it was alright...that Fred hadn't died in vain...

_'Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love...'_

'I'd better go, Hermione. I'll be back with him, can you tell Kingsley about it?' he said suddenly as thoughts of Snape's miserable existence in life stirred him to action. Snape was dead, of course. Dumbledore had told him not to pity the dead...but in a way, he was doing this because of how he pitied the sacrifice that Snape had borne throughout the whole of his adult life.

'Of course, Harry,' said Hermione. 'It's the least that I can do.'

He set off across the grounds, pulling on his cloak as the temperature dropped considerably as he left the warmth of the castle. The Order had been told about Snape's death, of course. After Harry's public confrontation with Voldemort, it was clear that at least everyone in the vicinity had been informed of Snape's loyalties. As a result, Snape had gained a great amount of their respect. But the Shrieking Shack was much too cumbersome to deal with at the moment and Kingsley had put the priority of bringing Snape's body back to the castle much further down the list than Harry liked though he knew that was more of a practicality issue than one of preference.

It was ironic that Snape had met his end at the Shack where Harry knew, at least in his current knowledge, where many events of significance had taken place. It was here in their third year that Snape had confronted Sirius after his escape from Azkaban and where Harry had to knock him senseless in order so that all of them might escape. He approached the Whomping Willow carefully as its looming presence entered his field of vision. Pulling out his wand, he manouvered a fallen stick and pressed it against the knot at the base of the tree before crawling quickly into the gaping entrance.

'_Lumos_.'

Immediately, the passageway lightened and Harry was surprised by how hushed and quiet his voice sounded…as if he was afraid of disturbing the eerie peace that had permeated the dark tunnel. Struggling through the cramped darkness, he thought it frightening that the Marauders, his mother and Snape were no longer living. Lupin had met his end during the battle, Sirius had met his at the Ministry and Pettigrew, he had seen before his own eyes, strangled to death by the silver hand that his master had bestowed upon him in that grim graveyard where Voldemort had terrifyingly come back to life during the Triwizard Tournament. It was strange that this place, this place which had played such memorable roles in their lives, still stood firm while the souls that walked and talked here were no longer alive. James Potter had saved Snape here as the latter had accidentally stumbled across a transforming Lupin during a full moon all those years ago...and now Lupin lay side by side by Tonks, together as they were in life as well as in death like James was next to Lily in Godric's Hollow.

Now there was only one left to be put to rest at last.

Harry made his way towards the room where Snape had uttered his last painful breaths. He paused awkwardly before lifting himself up through the entrance and his hand shook slightly as he held his wand aloft. He didn't understand why but he feared seeing that thin, sallow face or those trademark black robes of the professor who had unexpectedly revealed his true self in the most dramatic fashion. Snape had always been the dreaded Potions master; the evil, overgrown bat-like git as Ron used to call him. Admittedly, Snape's detentions had been nothing compared to the cruelty faced at the hands of Umbridge but he had been unpleasant enough.

However, all that had changed...

Not once had he ever imagined the extent of the role that previously detested professor would have on his life and he was only too grateful that, at least, Snape had been willing and had trusted him enough in the end to reveal his secrets to him in the final moments left of his dwindling life. Revealing something that most obviously caused a great amount of suffering and sacrifice on Snape's part as well as his dignity. When he had looked into the Pensieve, Harry felt slightly uneasy in the way that he was being shown these innermost secrets...memories that were obviously exceedingly private and close to the man's heart. It was almost as if he had seen him unclothed...naked as it were, for Snape had hardly been a charismatic person in his lifetime and the thought of him baring his soul in such a open manner filled Harry simultaneously with a mingled sense of honour and embarrassment.

With these thoughts in mind, he slowly approached the body now lying still upon the threadbare, dusty floorboards. At first glance, he could have thought that Snape was asleep...his face was remarkably bereft of pain and his stern features were relaxed albeit extremely pale, the pallid complexion only accentuated by his black robes. Had it not been for the darkened smattering of blood across the floor as well as the ugly, gaping gash in his neck, one could have guessed that he had been killed in the normal fashion -- through the Killing Curse.

Harry felt a surge of pity for the dead man despite Dumbledore's advice ringing warningly through his head. Snape had probably risked his life in more dangerous ways than the rest of the Order put together but had met the most bloodiest and painful of endings. And for what? Voldemort had misunderstood the Elder Wand completely and now an innocent man lay dead in the aftermath.

A needless, violent killing.

Angrily and cursing fate for its cruelty to mankind, Harry determinedly bent over the Potion Master's lifeless body and waved his wand respectfully. The blood disappeared instantly from the floor and from Snape's hands, neck and robes. He did as best as he could to tend to the horrible wound in Snape's neck but Nagini's bite was obviously tinged with a hint of Dark Magic and the wound refused to close. This was something that the Healers at St Mungos could probably take care of.

But it was their job to tend to the living. Not the dead.

Harry sighed wearily in the silence. He knew that it was better use of their efforts to concentrate on the remaining injured at Hogwarts and he would have no choice but to do it himself and as best as he could. Reaching into his jean's pocket, he pulled out a roll of bandages he had obtained from the Hospital Wing and carefully rested Snape's head against his knee as he bound the unsightly gash by hand.

Satisfied with his work, Harry sealed the ends of the bandage with his wand and got to his feet.

'Well, here I am, sir,' Harry found himself saying suddenly after staring at Snape's lifeless features in the darkness of the shack. His voice was strangely low and raspy, as if he hadn't used it in a while. It felt odd talking to a corpse, knowing that Snape wouldn't answer even he wanted him to but he was desperate to reassure him – where ever he was (he hoped very much he was with Dumbledore) – that he hadn't died in vain as he had believed it to be. He recalled Snape's genuine look of horror in the Pensieve as he realised the extent of Dumbledore's plans and although he knew that that look of stunned disappointment, even concern, hadn't necessarily stemmed from a liking for him, he was grateful all the same. Harry recovered himself, trying very hard to find the right words. 'I know I haven't been that appreciative of the work you've done for Dumbledore...and – my mum. I realise that you didn't do all this for me. You probably hated me with all your soul because of my dad but I want to thank you anyway because I feel that I'm the only one living who can...and who knows exactly what you've sacrificed for the greater good.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flicker of a smile on Snape's face but he blinked again and saw that Snape's face was as still and pallid as he had seen it before. 'I'm sorry that I watched and stood by and did nothing as Voldemort took your life...and I'm sorry that I didn't realise before that you were on Dumbledore's side all along. I should have...put faith in you, I suppose, sir. And on behalf of my mum, I thank you for the love that you gave to her -- the sort of love so rare, so loyal...which I think wouldn't have happened even in a million lifetimes. May you find peace at last, Severus Snape.'

A wave of content filled his mind as the final words fell from his lips and he bowed his head respectfully, contently.

His job here was done. All he had to do was transfer Snape back to the castle and leave him in Kingsley's care after which he would do his final duty.

He had decided beforehand not to transport Snape by magical means. He found it vaguely insulting if he were to move him by the means of _Levicorpus_ as it had happened three years ago and he certainly did not want to affront anyone's memory by turning up in the Entrance Hall with a levitating body by his side. He would carry him...which meant using his arms and all the remaining strength he had left. He knew it was foolhardy, expending his strength like this but somehow it was all worth it. Quietly, he picked up Snape's body fearing that his weight would exhaust him entirely but found the Potion Master's body surprisingly light and made his long trek back to the castle.

At long last, he entered the familiar warmth of the Great Hall, too busy with his own tired thoughts to observe the surroundings until a voice called his name.

'Harry!'

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward from the rest of the attending Aurors and solemnly helped Harry lay Snape's body in the last remaining coffin.

'Is this it?' asked Harry as they both looked into the face of Severus Snape as he lay there in his final resting place.

'That's it, Harry,' answered Kingsley quietly. 'We should have put more faith in him than we thought,' he added sadly after a while during which neither of them had spoken. 'And all this time, he was acting alone for the Order without our knowledge...our man behind enemy lines.'

'Yes' was all Harry could find himself to say, his mind suddenly heavy with a deep, unfamiliar emotion. The silence might have stretched on until –

'Wait,' he said as the lid began to magically move to cover the top of the coffin. Reaching inside his pocket, he retrieved a photograph of his mother alone in their garden, smiling radiantly at the camera. Harry had stared at the picture for hours on end in the past when Hagrid had first presented him with the album and now, he did not feel unwilling to part with it, knowing that it was to be in much worthier hands than his. Kingsley watched silently as Harry gently placed the photograph in Snape's clasped hands, now resting on his chest, so that it was next to his heart.

Harry looked up at Kingsley's dark face whose eyes now gleamed with understanding though not a word thankfully escaped his lips...he felt he couldn't bear it if he did.

'Now, he will rest in peace,' said Harry almost to himself. At last something whole and willingly given to a man with a broken soul. 'Take care of him well, Kingsley. He was probably the bravest man I ever knew.'

* * *

_A/N: For those who liked this story, you'll be glad to know that I have written a sort of sequel to this, written from Snape's POV in the afterlife: _The Last Part of the Prince's Tale_._


End file.
